Psychological Warfare
by Kyubii-Ash
Summary: All that really matters to them is this: are you loyal, and what are your students' average exam scores? A school plays host to criminal teachers, criminal students, and the peons of the law. Rating subject to change, multiple pairings/characters.


A new story, definately multi-chapter. 

How to explain this... well, I was reading through the Naruto story listings, AU since I like AUs (which was not terrifyingly obvious), and marveled, oh how I marveled, at the sheer amount of high school AU stories. Sometimes, I wonder if my life would be more interesting if MY high school years were like that. I really do. I don't know what school systemsome of those charactersgoing to, honestly, the teachers are WAY cooler than mine were... but that's not the point here.

I read through, and wondered, "I wonder if So-And-So is a teacher in any of these stories," and began my search. And so was this monstrosity born. Various villains very often used as the students as teachers. ... probably not orginal, but very fun.

Short summary of this chapter: A new sub menaces the rich student body of the school, using rumors as his weapon.

* * *

"A guy like him," one of the girls hissed in her friend's ear, "can't be ANYTHING but trouble!"

"I heard that he moved here because he scratched a student's eyes out!"

"No, I heard it was because he strangled him with that necklace and they got him off just in time!"

"I thought they said they were too late!"

"Sssh, he's coming!"

The sub, the rumors were saying, had just gotten out of high-school, and wasn't taking a college class. They'd never heard of a teacher, substitute or otherwise, who had never been to college or at least taken an online course; they had also never had a teacher, sub or otherwise, who hadn't been over thirty. He was tall, and dressed sloppily. Most of the teachers in this school dressed extremely formally. He apparently had white hair, though most of the kids just assumed that it had been the sunlight shining on extremely light blonde hair. The rumors also talked about the necklace he was wearing, and apparently strangled a kid with. It was a long necklace, with dark blue ceramic beads and an odd charm. The rumors varied on what exactly the charm was: some said it was a pentagram, others a mere cross, and some a circle with a triangle inside it.

Whatever it was, it was assured that Class B-2 would be having an extremely odd homeroom period.

The bell rang, and for several minutes, the teacher didn't show. Then, with a loud clatter, the sub ran in, holding a jacket over one arm, a bag over the other, and a to-go cup of Mc Donald's coffee. The students looked at each other, then began studying their mysterious substitute.

He wasn't particularly tall, but his hair was indeed, much to their confusion, white. Some of the kids wondered if he was American. He was dressed pretty messily, though the clothes he wore were relatively formal. His shirt was thin, and un-starched, and the sleeves were rolled up to over his elbows, all but the bottom four buttons undone. His pants were wrinkled, and re-hemmed in several places with the wrong shade of grey thread. His shoes, though no doubt at one point had been very nice, were beaten up and needed polishing--or a trashing.

The disputed necklace indeed existed, and the charm was just like on of the rumors had detailed: black metal, with a triangle enclosed in a circle. A few kids looked close for blood-stains.

"Sorry, kids," he said. Many students were shocked by his casual tone. "It's longer than you think from the lobby to this classroom. Anyway, I'm gonna be subbing for Hanayama this week. He fell down the stairs to his porch and broke his leg. Watch where you're going, kids, broken bones aren't fun. At all." Silence. The man put down his coffee, draped his jacket over the back of the chair at the desk, and dropped his bag next to his coffee. He flicked open the clasp, and pulled out the roll sheet. After calling the roll--he got nothing but nervous, tinny 'here's' for responses, which seemingly disappointed him--he passed the sheet to the Class Rep to get it taken down to the office.

Once she returned, he introduced himself. Shurano. Several of the students began shifting nervously in their chairs: a violent past and a violent name? That was too much. He still hadn't taken a seat, and fifteen minutes had passed. Hanayama-sensei had spent most of his time sitting. He pulled a crumpled note from his bag, and read it aloud.

"'Dear Classes, I have been taken into the hospital for a shattered femur and will be out for two weeks. For the first week, Shurano-san will be substituting for me, and after that, the school will arrange for another substitute. I trust you will treat them with utmost respect, and will have nothing but sparkling reports for me when I return. My lesson plans are as follows.' Alright, kids, let's get started. Today, you're supposed to do page one-hundred fifty-seven in your text-books. Get crackin'!"

The man STILL didn't take a seat. He walked around the room, looking over kids' shoulders and occasionally making corrections on their papers. He seemed to know quite a bit about history: he was spouting off locations and dates without so much as looking down at the books.

Finally, once every one was done, he stood back against the black board and took questions. Most of the kids wanted to know more about the Second World War--it was what they were studying--but one asked a completely off-the-mark question.

"Um, Shurano-sensei," she said, voice shaking nervously.

"Yeah?"

"C-c-can I ask about your necklace?"

He looked down at the necklace, and said, "Uh... sure, why not?"

"What's that symbol?"

He grinned. Several students flinched, and one girl closed her eyes. None of their teachers, supposing they smiled, ever grinned like that. It was wide, showing off most of his teeth (which were nice, even, and very white, incidentally). "It's the symbol of my religion. It's called Jashinism. Any of you ever heard of it?"

One of the girl's foreheads collided with her desk at a very high velocity. She'd fainted. The substitute cackled. "I see someone has! Hey, Class Rep, watch the class while I take her to the nurse."

The class sat in stony silence until the bell rang, at which they ran from the room. 

"Oh my god! Moegi-san fainted! What's Jashinism?"

"Class B-2's substitute is a Jashinite! No way!"

"Hey, what's a Jashinite? Hey!"

"A Jashinite in OUR school! No way! That's impossible!"

"What's a Jashinite, dammit!"

"Jashinites are fanatics!"

The word spread across the school between classes like wildfire, and all of the classes Shurano Hidan-sensei had after that were perfectly behaved.

_Dear Hanayama-sensei. Wow, do you have some great kids! All polite and hard-working and stuff. All I had to do was intimidate one class, too. To get taken seriously at that OTHER school, I had to smack some rude kids up. But the rules are different in posh schools, I guess, and psychological warfare is, I'll admit, kinda fun. I do miss being able to hit the kids, though._

_How's the leg? No hard feelings, right? I TOLD Kakuzu to take it easy on you, old man, but I guess your belly-aching must've pissed him off. I told you beforehand that he didn't like whiners. But did you listen? No. And now I'm not quite sure you'll ever be able to walk on that leg again._

_Teaching history is a lot of fun. You need to get your kids more involved. They forget easily. I think bad history teachers like you are the reason this world is shit, people forgetting where they come from and not knowing where we're going..._

_I think I'm going to want to keep teaching this class. Maybe even become your replacement? I think I might have to go to college for that, though... ergh..._

_See, if you had just given us the money when we ASKED you nicely, you'd still be boring the shit out of the kids and getting your salary. When people are responsible, things turn out nicer. Too bad for you that you had to learn your lesson the hard way. You won't be able to use it, since I think Kakuzu is going to kill you in few weeks._

_But you didn't here that from me._

_-Shurano Hidan._

* * *

Lesson for today? Listen to mean that are stitched up. They will fuck you up man.

Little explanation section, since MY beta-reader who is totally not my mom, guyz, was a little confused:

Though I do not claim to be an expert in Japanese in ANY way what-so-ever, "Shurano" roughly translates to "Blood/Carnage of," so Shurano Hidan would roughly translate to "Hidan of Carnage." ...I thought it was fitting...

Hanayama is "Flower Mountain," though that has little to nothing to do with anything.

Hidan did not strangle or scratch anybody's eyes out. He smacked kids when they smarted off. My teachers have gotten away with that, or worse. It happens. I had a coach that taught Health that blew his whistle RIGHT in some kid's ear for sleeping. He was my favorite coach.

To be updated sporadically. Perhaps even multiple times daily. Who knows?


End file.
